Chethan

Chethan’s “Yello Jogappa Ninnaramane” (2025) is, honestly, one of those films that just lingers in your head long after the credits roll. Set in a patchwork of rural Karnataka, the story weaves around a tight-knit bunch of villagers whose lives get shaken up by a wandering jogappa – a sort of mystical, gender-fluid folk performer with the knack for stirring up both wonder and chaos. There’s this wild energy to the place, you know? The air’s thick with gossip, secrets, and those unspoken dreams everyone’s too scared to chase. Chethan doesn’t do your typical hero’s journey – nobody’s riding off into the sunset here. Instead, the movie digs into the nitty-gritty of identity and belonging. The jogappa, played with this raw, magnetic charm, becomes a mirror for everyone else, forcing them to face the stuff they’d rather keep buried. And the visuals? Stunning. You get these sun-drenched fields, half-forgotten shrines, and monsoon-soaked backroads that make the whole thing feel almost mythic. The soundtrack’s a trip too – old folk tunes, some haunting, some playful – practically another character in the story. What really grabs you is how the film never lets you settle. One minute you’re laughing at some sharp, biting dialogue, the next you’re hit with a gut-punch of emotion. By the end, nobody’s quite the same, and honestly, neither are you. It’s messy, beautiful, and absolutely unforgettable.